Drawn to Life (12 page)

Chapter 25

Mia—May I Touch?

En route to Rome, June 2012

Why did I agree to sing with him? I’d abandoned all this a year ago. My piano had been gathering dust in the living room since April 2011, just like so many other things I’d once liked. I’d always enjoyed singing when I was sure nobody was listening. Once I got out of the hospital, though, I was too tired for it. My joints were too stiff to play. I didn’t take joy in it anymore. Until that day on the train, I hadn’t even felt the urge to do more than listen.

Joining in felt so natural that I hadn’t even noticed when it happened. Maybe because I was only half-awake, with the guitar lulling me to sleep. I might not have even caught on at all, if Samuel’s crooning hadn’t startled me into it. He sang very well. I stopped because our voices melded so perfectly.

It felt good.

Too
good. This kind of feeling wasn’t familiar anymore. It overwhelmed me, and I didn’t know how to handle my emotions. They scared me. For more than a year, I had been living inside a bubble and unable to find the exit. I was going in circles. Then suddenly, the bubble burst, because of one moment, one person? That scared me. But I had to fight and find my way out.

So I sang, too.

I enjoyed the sound of his voice; it made my skin tingle. I liked what I felt inside—warmth, happiness. I could only manage the one tune for now. I didn’t want to be overcome by my feelings.

“Thank you for joining in.” Samuel smiled. I looked at him shyly. “We should do this more often. I would love to see that smile again, the one that happens when you sing.”

“Another time, maybe . . .” I couldn’t say anything else.

Samuel kept playing for me until I finally fell asleep. I simply couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, although I really wanted to listen some more.

He woke me shortly before the train crossed the Italian border. I was grateful he didn’t touch me. He simply repeated my name. “Mia, wake up . . . Mia Lang, time to open those gorgeous eyes of yours. Mia . . .”

I pretended to be asleep because I wanted to listen to Samuel say my name. I didn’t move a muscle, but eventually, I couldn’t suppress my smile.

“Hey, how long have you been awake?” he asked. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face. Slowly, I opened my eyes. He was really, really near, our noses separated by maybe four inches. Exciting sensations and a long-missing warmth ran through my body.

“Um . . . maybe a little while?” I said softly.

“Then why did you pretend you were sleeping?” His face was still close.

I shrugged.

He shook his head. “Whatever. We’ll have to get off the train soon. I’ll grab your backpack again because we don’t have much time for the transfer.”

“But I can—”

“I’m taking it. Period. We only have five minutes.”

“OK, OK, you take it.” I rolled my eyes and covered my mouth to indicate I was shutting up.

“Ready? Let’s go, pronto!”

We were traveling the next leg of our trip by bus. After we’d boarded, I stowed my pack under my seat and rested my knees against the back of the one in front of me. Samuel took the spot beside me. The bus was fully booked and cramped.

“Do you mind if I sleep a little more?” I asked.

Samuel shook his head. “I’ll try to rest a bit myself.”

“OK. So, I’ll see you in Venice, if not before.” I yawned.

“Sleep well, sweetie.”

This was the third time he’d called me sweetie. I thought I’d heard wrong the first times. Now I wanted to ask him why he kept using an endearment. But he’d already closed his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. His legs were far too long for the narrow space. One leg was buckled up against the seat in front of him and the other stretched into the aisle. A small smile played on his face; his breathing was even. I still enjoyed looking at him. It was soothing and exciting at the same time. For more than a year, I hadn’t been this close to a man. I wanted to touch him so much that my hands began to tingle. I shifted and extended my arm until my fingertips almost brushed his face.
But I hesitated—then I told myself he was sleeping and couldn’t do me any harm.

Softly, I caressed his short beard, then quickly withdrew my hand. Only to try it again. Briefly, gently, I touched his mouth with my trembling fingers. His lips were softer than my skin. I smiled. I liked their texture. Then he stirred, and I drew back again.

Pleased with myself, I settled back in my seat. I was still smiling when I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 26

Mia—Don’t Touch Me

En route to Rome, June 2012

I woke up with a stiff neck. I couldn’t wait to lie down on a real bed, even if it was in a youth hostel. It would definitely be more comfortable than sleeping on a cramped bus, leaning against the window.

I stretched all my aching limbs as best as I could, yawned, and looked at my watch. It was almost six in the evening. Any minute, we would arrive in Venice, where we’d catch another transfer for the final leg to Rome.

I glanced over at Samuel, who was still fast asleep. His head hung down so awkwardly, I figured he’d have a stiff neck, as well.

I leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Samuel, wake up. We’re almost there. Time to get up, Samuel Winter.”

He opened one eye and peeked at me.

“We’ll have to get off the bus soon.”

He yawned and stretched. “Damn it. I didn’t imagine traveling would be so painful.”

“What did you think? Luxury coaches?”

He laughed. “No, I must have just forgotten how uncomfortable these seats are.” He massaged his neck.

“Once we’re back on a train, we can spread out more, and we won’t be nearly on top of each other,” I said.

“Yeah, but what if I like being nearly top of each other?” he asked, stretching as if to reach around my shoulders and hug me.

I hastily pressed myself against the side of the bus. Blood rushed through my veins, making my heart race. This was just too much.

Sam raised his hands in that surrender gesture again. “Hey, sweetie, relax. It was only going to be a hug.” I heard his voice but couldn’t speak. A swooshing noise filled my ears, making my head throb. I couldn’t avert my eyes away from his damned hands.

“Mia, please, look into my eyes,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

I knew he wouldn’t. But my body didn’t agree. My body thought he was an enemy, and every cell had retreated into defense mode. I had to do something, or I’d have another panic attack.

“Look into my eyes.”

Carefully, I raised my eyes.

“Now, try to breathe. Just do as I do.”

But I couldn’t. I felt as if I were choking. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“No, Mia, look into my eyes,” he repeated gently.

I forced myself to do as he asked.

“Good . . . Inhale . . . and now, slowly, exhale. In . . .” He pointed up. “And out . . .” He pointed down. We repeated the exercise over twenty times, until the rushing in my head disappeared and my heartbeat slowed.

“Good job,” Samuel said, smiling at me. Sounding tentative, as if choosing his words carefully, he said, “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

I shook my head.

“I think I deserve to know, don’t you? I thought you’d faint any minute. You scared me.”

I didn’t want him to think I was even crazier than he must believe I was already. More than that, I didn’t want to stir up anything painful. If I explained my panic attacks, I’d have to tell him the whole story.

“I can’t, Samuel. I mean, I’d rather not. Besides, it’s no big deal.”

He seemed to debate whether or not he should push me. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, massaged his neck. Looked at me. Looked away.

“OK, I’ll let it go. For now.” His voice betrayed his confusion. My eyes begged him to forget about it. “I’ll let it go only because we’re transferring soon.”

“Thank you,” I whispered and looked at the ground.

Chapter 27

Samuel—Never Let Go Again

En route to Rome, June 2012

I couldn’t wrap my head around her behavior. It worried me. Her reactions weren’t normal. How could I get her to confide in me? We hardly knew each other, although it seemed as if we’d known each other forever, which, of course, wasn’t the case. If it were, I would have known what was going on with her and been able to help. She seemed so fragile and scared, but she obviously didn’t want me to know why, so I let the subject drop.

When the bus stopped, I grabbed her luggage. This time, she didn’t protest and instead simply thanked me. Even without the heavy backpack, she moved slowly.

In silence, we boarded the train to Rome. Suddenly, Mia stopped and looked at me, doubt in her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy. I . . .” She began chewing her lower lip again. I wanted to smooth her mouth with my fingers, with my own lips, until she stopped, but I managed to stay still, my hand plunged into the pocket of my jeans. If I’d moved, I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t touch her. After all, I was just a guy!

“You must think I’m, like, a total whacko,” she said. “I don’t know what to say now.”

I concentrated on that damned lower lip.

“Um . . . So if you think that, I totally get it if you leave me now.” She couldn’t hold my gaze.

“No,” I reassured her.

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t think you’re a whacko. Not at all.” I took a step closer. Only a few inches separated us, and she leaned slightly back. “I’ll stay,” I said softly.

“OK.” She swallowed hard.

“Let’s find seats,” I suggested.

We didn’t speak during most of the trip. I didn’t ask what had happened on the bus or why I would think she was nuts, though I was tempted several times. I didn’t want to provoke another episode. Her behavior often surprised me, but I assumed she had her reasons.

When we finally spoke, she told me she was from Graz, where she had also gone to school and worked in the press office of a newspaper until a year ago.

“I like getting to know something about your life,” I said.

“Well, I’m not such an open book, like you.” She almost sounded defensive again.

“I guess that’s right. I couldn’t even find you on any social media.” Almost everybody had an account somewhere these days.

“Oh, so you searched my name? And what did you find?” Mia folded her hands and looked at me.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. You sure are a riddle wrapped in a mystery. But I’ll find out more about you. Trust me.” I winked at her.

“Not everyone likes to lead such a public life, like you,” she said. Then she fell silent again and stared out the window for a long time, her chin resting on her palm. She didn’t again acknowledge my presence until shortly before we arrived in Rome.

She looked at me, biting her nails, then hastily hid her hands under her thighs. “The past several hours with you were really nice.” She was once again chewing her lip, looking at the ground. “Thank you for helping me with my luggage.”

“Mia . . .”

She raised her head.

“Let’s keep traveling together.” I didn’t want her to journey alone. I wanted to learn more about her. There was something about her that was irresistible; it wasn’t only her mannerisms I found captivating.

“I—I’m not sure,” she stammered.

“What do you have to lose? I’m good company.” I smiled at her.

“But—”

“But
whatever
is not an option. I want to show you Rome, off the beaten track,” I said.

She lifted her hand as if to run her fingers through her hair, but then must have realized she was wearing that gray hat.

She exhaled. “OK.”

“OK as in yes?” I asked and smiled.

“Yes. As in yes.” She grinned.

“You won’t regret it.”

An announcement informed us we’d arrived.

“We should set up something for tomorrow morning. Where are you staying?”

“Um . . . it’s called Cosmic Hotel, downtown.”

“I’ll come with you.”

She stared at me with wide eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have my own room,” I reassured her. “It’ll just be easier that way.”

She nodded.

A cab dropped us off at the youth hostel, where they gave us adjacent rooms.

Mia stood at her door, grabbed the doorknob, and, hesitating, shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“Have a good night, Samuel,” she finally whispered.

God, I wanted to hug her. Hold her. Feel her head on my shoulder and inhale her vanilla scent. Support her. Never let her go again. Kiss the nape of her neck.

Instead, I only whispered back, “Good night, sweetie. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.” Then I walked into my room.

Chapter 28

Mia—Let Me Show You More

Rome, June 2012

I tried to sleep, but I was too excited. What would the next day bring? Without Samuel, I would have more time for myself. More time to think about my comeback. But did I really want that?

No, I didn’t. Samuel helped me forget. The only time I’d thought about my ordeal was when he’d asked why he couldn’t find me online. I considered telling him why I had disappeared from the public world, but I didn’t want the past to overshadow our encounter.

Before I fell asleep, I took out my sketchbook and pencils and began drawing like a madwoman. Illustrations would provide a record of my travels. Should my mother find them one day, she would know I’d been happy.

Around eight, just as I was getting out of the shower, I heard a knock coming from the hallway. I had only a towel wrapped around myself, and water dripped from my hair into my eyes and onto the tiles. Then came the unmistakable sound of someone entering my room. I hastened to close the bathroom door but slipped, fell, and landed on my butt. Surprised and in pain, I yelped.

“Mia?” It was Samuel.

“Turn around right now!” I yelled.

He obeyed. “Is there something I can do?”

I got up, still holding the towel. My butt hurt. “No, stay where you are! I’m not decent.”

Samuel laughed. “Well, that certainly won’t discourage me.”

“Don’t you dare!” I shouted.

“Don’t panic. I won’t budge an inch until you tell me to.”

“Thank you.” While getting dressed, I asked, “What are you doing in my room, anyway?”

He almost turned around.

“Stop!”

Samuel massaged his neck. “Sorry, but it’s strange talking to someone this way.”

I quickly zipped my vintage pink dress. “OK, now you can turn around.”

Slowly, he did, then let his gaze wander my body from head to toe. The intensity in his eyes made me feel warm everywhere. “Wow, you look amazing.” His gaze lingered on the top of my head. “I could have never imagined how beautiful you look without your hat. Wow . . .” he repeated again and smiled.

I felt my scalp. Oh shit. Trying to cover the feathery strands of hair with my hands, I desperately looked around. I began to panic. Gulping in air, I asked, “Do you see my hat anywhere?”

He looked puzzled and shook his head.

He took a few cautious steps toward me. Skirting past him, I grabbed up and emptied out my backpack, scattering my clothes everywhere. Helplessly from where I knelt on the floor, I looked up at him before continuing my frenzied search.

Samuel moved closer and leaned in as if he intended to touch me. Then he stopped and let his arm drop to his side. “Why?” he asked quietly.

“Why what?”

“Why do you need it?” He squatted down in front of me. “I don’t understand why you do. You look great. Much better than with that piece of cotton on your head.” Samuel’s eyes wandered over me again. “You’re perfect just as you are.” His smile tried to convince me.

“Wool.”

“Wool?” he echoed.

“The hat. It’s wool, not cotton,” I said.

“Fine. Forget about the
wool
hat.” Softly, he added, “Believe me, you look awesome.”

Heat rushed to my face. I didn’t know where to look. My family was always telling me that I was still pretty, but I didn’t believe them. They were my
family
—they were supposed to say things like that. Their words didn’t help anyway, because every time I looked in the mirror, my reflection proved them wrong.

Nobody could seriously think of me as attractive.

Samuel noticed my doubt. “Believe me,” he whispered. “Listen, I have a plan. If we find the hat, you put it back on and nobody but me will know how beautiful you are. I don’t mind. But if you don’t find it, you’ll have to leave the room without it.”

I agreed. What could I do? I didn’t want to lock myself in here. But I had no idea where I had put it. Finally, admitting defeat, I walked out onto the street without it, trailing slowly after Samuel.

“Mia, if you don’t speed up, I’ll have to carry you.” He laughed. “There’s so much to see. Come on!”

Samuel was obviously excited to show me around Rome. Without him, I would have followed the tourist-beaten paths listed in the travel guides.

“I’m going to take you to one of the most beautiful places here.”

Before he did, though, we had breakfast. Afterward, we walked for about thirty minutes until we reached the entrance to a park.

He swept his arm toward the entrance. “These are the Villa Borghese gardens. An emerald oasis.”

I’d heard of this place, but without his encouragement, I would have probably skipped it. Once I was only a few yards in, though, I was thrilled we’d come. Everything was green, the greenest of greens. The paths were tidy. It was amazing.

“There’s an art gallery in the middle of the park. Do you want to see it?”

I shook my head. “I want to stay right here.”

He grinned. “We’ll come back. Let’s walk a little bit farther before that.”